ROAD TO CORDIA (10 page)

     They were going to execute her in the morning. Dead! She was going to die! Be lifeless. Unable to see; to touch; to feel. To breathe! It wasn’t fair!

     Tears were running down her face, her nose was stuffed and she had no handkerchief on which to blow it, so she used her sleeve. She was going to die dirty. And smelly. Would someone even wash her poor dead body before they consigned it to the flames? For that matter, would the flames consume her or would they just shovel her dead body into a hole somewhere and -- Now she was really crying. Loudly.

     “Arr, shut ya yap,” said a voice.

     Sniveling, Ja'Nil turned to find a dirty faced old person (she wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman), glaring at her.

     “How’s to sleep with all ya boo-hoo-hooing?”

     That was so unfair. The place was already deafening and now this… this person was accusing her of being too noisy.

     “I don’t care if you can’t sleep,” said Ja'Nil, her voice mean and spiteful. Even as she spoke, she felt ashamed of what she was saying, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t care if you never sleep again,” she continued, her voice rising in volume. “In fact, I hope you spend the rest of your life wide awake and tired, exhausted, wrung out, barely able to put one foot in front of another!” She was definitely yelling now.

     Around her, people were quieting down in order to listen to her ranting. When she finished, no one else was speaking. Only her voice could be heard: vicious, angry, and frightened.

     “Well at least ya stopped ya boo-hooing,” said the old, dirty person of uncertain gender, who then turned on its side, curled up and immediately went to sleep.

     “Whot’s a matter, little one, couldn’t pay ya fine?” asked a giant of a man. Like almost everyone there, he was dressed in rags.

     “I…yes, I don’t have any money,” she said, refusing to admit even to her fellow prisoners, let alone herself, that she was under a death sentence.

     “Don’t ya fuss so,” he advised her. “Ya’ll work it off in the fields and then be on ya way. That’s how his lordship gets his field hands.” Several others, who had been listening, nodded in agreement.

     Things were growing quieter now. True, there was the occasional wordless scream from some poor devil caught in a nightmare. Ja'Nil knew just how he felt. Several people were snoring. There was snorting, farting, and someone talking in their sleep. Still, it was much quieter than it had been.

     There were no beds, no blankets. People just curled up on the stone floor wherever they could find room, and slept. The only light was from a single torch in the hallway. Ja'Nil made her way over to the securely locked door. The iron bars of the cage were too close together for even someone as thin as Ja'Nil to slip through. Grasping a bar in each hand, Ja'Nil closed her eyes and concentrated. In her mind, she saw the bars slowly moving away from each other. Wider and wider. Just a little more now, and she would be able to slip through. Her hands were painful claws locked around the moving iron. Sweat poured down her forehead and across her tightly closed eyes.

      Had she done it? She opened her eyes slowly. Drops of sweat poured into her open eyes, stinging, making everything a blur. She wiped at them with the sleeve of her worn tunic.

     Nothing had changed! The bars hadn’t moved an inch. With a half sob, half laugh, Ja'Nil flexed her aching hands. Her “gift” was no more than the imagination of a fond father reading too much into a string of coincidences. There was no way out.

     Ja'Nil sank down to the floor and closed her eyes. This really was going to be her last night on earth.

* * *

     Something was pinching her. She opened her eyes and found herself looking into the reddened, mad looking eyes of a wild haired, smelly, fellow prisoner. “Gimme ya boots,” said the woman.

     “My boots?”   

     The woman produced a very sharp looking homemade knife and pushed the point against Ja'Nil’s side. “Gimme ‘em.”

     “My boots?”

     “Is ya deaf? Is ya dumb? Shall Iss take ‘em offen ya dead body?”

     Ja'Nil started to laugh.

     “Shut the noise. Is ya crazy? Do ya wants the guards?”

     “You want my boots?”

     “I’s ain’t got none,” explained the woman, as if that made her behavior perfectly acceptable.

     “I’ll trade you,” said Ja'Nil.

     “I ain’t gots nothing for to trade.”

     “I’ll give you my boots, you give me that knife,” said Ja'Nil.

     “Whats ya wants with my knife?”

     “What do you want with my boots?”

     The woman looked at Ja'Nil as if she were the crazy one. She raised her right foot to show Ja'Nil its cracked and bleeding sole. “I needs boots,” she said. “I ain’ts got none.”

     “I need a knife.” Ja'Nil looked straight into the crazy woman’s mad eyes. “Do we have a deal?”

     “Yeah,” said the woman.

     “Give me the knife,” said Ja'Nil, “Handle first.”

     Amazingly, she actually handed over the knife. Ja'Nil took off her boots and gave them to the woman, who grabbed them and scooted away into the darkness, leaving Ja'Nil barefoot, but more or less armed.

     As a knife, it was pretty pathetic, just a sharpened stone wired onto a thin wooden handle. Still, she clutched it tightly. Maybe it wasn’t much when compared to the well-armed soldiers of Lord No’Sila, but it was better than going quietly to slaughter. Now, all she had to do was wait for dawn and pray. Incredibly, she fell asleep.

* * *

     She was awakened by the guards banging on the bars with iron cudgels and yelling at the prisoners to wake up. The cage door was opened and the prisoners filed out as their names were called. Ja'Nil clutched her knife and waited.

     “Ja’Nii,” called the guard. No one stepped forward. “Which a ya is Ja’Nii?” No answer.

     Was he calling her? Ja'Nil could feel sweat trickling down her back and seeping under the waistband of her leggings. The guard was growing irritated.

     “She’s a new one,” said another guard, “come in last night or the night before.”

     Several of the prisoners looked at Ja'Nil. One of them pointed to her and said, “She’s new.”

     The guard grabbed Ja'Nil and pulled her through the door. “You Ja’Nii?” he asked.

     They couldn’t even get her name right, she thought bitterly, but she nodded, “yes.”

     “Well, speak up when I calls ya.” He consulted a paper in his hand. “Says here ya gots two years hard labor for trespassing.”

     Two years hard labor? Ja'Nil knees almost buckled with relief. Her prayers had been answered. She would have much preferred being ordered off Red Horse lands, but a condemned prisoner couldn’t be choosey. Why had Lord No’Sila changed his mind? Maybe, O’Keeven had regretted his lies and told the truth.

     I knew O‘Keeven was really a good person!

     It didn’t matter why. She was going to live! And best of all, she wouldn’t have to do anything dishonorable, because to save her life she had been ready to do anything, even sell her soul to the High King of the Seven Hells.

     One of the guards pushed her into a line of prisoners that was moving slowly down the dank corridor. Light hearted with relief, Ja'Nil’s thoughts turned to practical matters. Would they be fed before they were put to work?            “Ja'Nil,” called a voice behind her. Still moving, she turned to see who was calling her. It was the guard standing in the door of the cage. Now what? Ja'Nil thought, as he bellowed her name again.

     She stopped, causing the prisoner behind her to bump into her.

      “Keep moving,” he snarled. “If we‘re late, all the food will be gone.”

     “No talking on the line,” shouted a guard.

     “Come here, you,” ordered the guard who was still at the cage door. He grabbed a wretched looking creature by the arm and hauled her out. “You Ja'Nil?” he asked.

     The wretched looking creature, who seemed to be half-deaf, looked at the guard and smiled with childish glee. “What ya say, fella? Huh, what ya say?”

     “You Ja'Nil?”

     “Yeah, yeah, JiJi, they calls me.” She was obviously enjoying their conversation.

     Oh, God of the Circle, thought Ja'Nil, as she was being herded out with the other prisoners. What should I do? She slowed and then started to leave the line and go back.       

     “Keep moving,” said the guard, giving her a vicious smack on the side of her head. “I’ve gots me eye on ya,” he said to Ja'Nil. “Try anything and ya’ll get the whip.”

     Ja'Nil stared blindly at him. It’s not my fault, she thought. They’re the ones who made the mistake, not me. I don’t want to die.

    
But the other woman’s a half-wit
, said the voice in her head.
She can’t protect herself
.

     Neither can I! she cried silently to that damn voice that wouldn’t let her off the hook. It never cut her any slack; it was always after her to do the right thing.

     “There’s been a mistake,” she heard her voice saying to the guard.

     The guard turned and gave her a tremendous shove. She landed face down onto the stone floor. As soon as she was down, she felt a slash of pure flame across her back, then a second one. He was whipping her. She screamed.

     “Ya wants more?” he said.

     Ja'Nil pushed herself to her knees, turning her head just in time to see the half-witted woman skip down the hallway alongside a guard. “They calls me Ji’Ji. They calls me Ji’Ji.” Chanted the doomed woman. She was smiling.

     “Wait,” called Ja'Nil but her voice was just a whisper. Still on her knees, Ja'Nil watched as Ji’Ji and her guard disappeared from view.

     “Ya don’t wants more, then gets to ya feets and keeps in line,” said the guard who was standing over Ja'Nil with a whip in his hand. Ja'Nil shuddered and stood up. The back of her tunic was ripped where he had whipped her, and blood seeped out. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered; she had just sold her soul to the High King of the Seven Hells. Obediently, she stepped back in line and exited the jail with the others.

CHAPTER 11

     They put her to work in the fields. Watching over her were armed guards, who made her old nemeses, Rog and Sildy, seem like guardian angels. Water was carried out to the sweating workers by a trustee who insisted he be called, “sir.” He rationed out the life giving fluid by the half cupful.

     Ja'Nil scarcely noticed. On the one hand she was tormented by the thoughts of Ji’Ji being executed in her place; on the other hand, she was terrified that Lord No’Sila’s Archers of Justice would discover the mistake and come looking for her. Even if she wanted them to, and she didn’t, no one would listen to her. They would just use that damn whip again.

     At the thought of the whip, her back started aching again. The sweat running down her body stung the open wound.

* * *

     A guard on horseback was coming towards her. Hastily Ja'Nil returned to hacking at the weeds. The guard stopped a few feet from her. Ja'Nil worked even harder, not daring to look up. Instinctively, she knew eye contact would be considered the greatest disrespect and severely punished.

     Finally, the guard moved away. Ja'Nil kept her head down and continued working, afraid to slacken. With her peripheral vision, she saw movement. Maybe it was the trustee with water.

     She turned her head then screamed in terror. At least, she wanted to scream in terror. Unfortunately her vocal cords, along with the rest of her body, were frozen. Facing her, not ten feet away, was the biggest, ugliest, meanest, most vicious looking wolf Ja'Nil had ever seen or had ever even heard of.

     He was golden in color, his pelt rough and ungroomed, and his eyes a burning yellow. He snarled viciously and saliva dripped from his mouth.

     Ja'Nil knew she was about to die. The breath whistled out of her lungs as though a mailed fist had hit her in the stomach. She bent over, her hands knotted into fists, clutching her stomach, unable to catch her breath. It was a toss-up between dying of asphyxiation and being ripped to death by those huge teeth. Finally, blessed air rushed into her lungs. She began to babble prayers. The wolf cocked his head as though trying to decide whether to grant her pleas.  She scrunched her eyes shut, when she opened them the wolf was gone.

     Straightening slowly, she looked around. She saw prisoners working. She saw cold-eyed guards on horseback. The stingy trusty called “Sir” was busy refusing to refill a cup of water for a thirsty prisoner.  What she didn’t see was the wolf. Ja'Nil scanned the fields. No wolf. Did she imagine it?

     Far off, she saw a bare-chested young man, golden in the sunlight. He was moving steadily away from her. Obviously not a prisoner. She envied his freedom.

* * *

     They worked until it was too dark to differentiate the weeds from plants. Then, both men and women were herded into a huge slave pen.

     Bowls of slop were ladled out. It smelled so bad that Ja'Nil didn’t even protest when someone stole hers. No doubt, the day would come when she was hungry enough to eat the nauseating stuff, but not tonight. Anyway, she was exhausted. She curled up on the floor and fell asleep instantly, too tired to even dream, but apparently not too tired for a nightmare.

     Something was crushing her, tearing at her clothes, slobbering over her, hurting her. In her dream, she tried to scream, but something wet and smelly was pushed into her mouth. She woke to find a man, one of the guards, lying on her, pulling at her leggings, pushing his tongue into her mouth.

     Ick! She bit down, hard.

     He yelled and reared back, blood dripping from his mouth. “Little bitch,” he said, and hit her on the side of her head with his fist. Her eyes crossed and the face of her attacker blurred. He hit her again, on the other side of her face, but this time with an open hand. “Give it up, bitch.” His voice seemed to come from a long distance away, sounding like the grunts of a feral pig. He ripped at her poor holey tunic. She couldn’t afford to have her tunic torn more than it already was. It was all she had to wear.